


My So Called Life

by Blownwish



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: AU, Angst, Ballet AU, High School AU, M/M, Yaoi, otayuri - Freeform, peripheral vituuri
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-10-29 16:28:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10857759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blownwish/pseuds/Blownwish
Summary: Yuri Plisetksy is a high school sophomore who will do anything to fulfill his dreams of becoming Principal Dancer of Yakov's Ballet Studio, even if it means he can't fall in love with West High football star, Otabek Altin.





	1. Chapter 1

Why did life have to suck? Yuri Plisetsky wanted answers and he wanted them, yesterday. He'd lost his dance bag, last night at some stupid house party, and his high school life was as good as over if anyone at school figured out he was a ballet dancer. 

“Maybe I should drop out.”

Viktor was still stretching. “You can anything you want. Sometimes that's not a good thing.”

“So easy for someone with money to say.”

Viktor clasped his feet and bent down. “So you left your dance bag at a party? Don't be ashamed. Be proud of what you do.”

Yuri wanted to crack him in the head. He didn't have to enroll in school and deal with other asshole teenagers every day. Richie-Rich Viktor got tutors and tours and airplane tickets that took him around the world by the time he was eighteen. He never had to worry about the teasing an ordinary mortal male would have to endure once someone found his leotards.

“Fuck my life!”

“FML, right?” Viktor jumped up, tossed his hair back, and smiled that stupid, happy smile. “I know that one!”

Yuri slapped his hand back. “Such an old man.”

“Do me a favor: don't drop out. I'm your mentor. You don't want to make your mentor sad.”

“Now I really want to do it.”

++

Yuri Plisetsky was incidentally gay. Incidentally, in the sense that he didn't think about being gay, any more than he thought about being blonde or having a pink birthmark on his right ass cheek. He thought about being a rock-star dancer who was going to take the world by the balls and turn it up to eleven, every time he hit the stage. Being gay? He didn't really put much energy into being gay. It required zero effort to get hard over guys, so he gave zero fucks. 

Being called a fag was nothing. Hell, he called himself a fag. He even wore it on a t shirt. What he didn't want people to know, was that he did ballet. That was completely different. 

He remembered how to little girls from his elementary school, who joined his junior ballet class, made fun of him in the cafeteria. They called him _tutu ballerina_ , and everyone laughed, even the lunch ladies. From then on he got into fights until he became the only fifth grader to get suspended. His mother, who really didn't give a shit, shipped him off to the other side of town to live with his grandpa. It was a relief because no one at his new school knew anything about him and ballet. 

“Yurachka,” his grandfather would say, “I’m trying to understand why you want the boys.”

“It's actually a super boring topic, Grandpa. I lowkey like boys. Kind of how you like American football. You play games in the background when you do crosswords. That's where I'm at.”

The old man wanted to understand. “But you like boys.”

“Yeah. But ballet, way more.”

Ballet was something his grandpa could get behind. His mother was always drunk or something and her boyfriends never gave a shit, so Grandpa drove all the way across town, three days a week, and took him to the studio. He said it would've made his great grandma, who was in the Bolshoi Ballet, proud. He always told Yuri: “You will be the next Mikhail Baryshnikov!”

Man, his grandpa was the best. 

But he still made him go to school. “You need education, Yuri. Not tutors. No way.”

“But Viktor Nikiforov - “

“Viktor can barely read and once he is done with ballet he will have nothing. You, Yurachka, you are a smart boy, a brilliant boy. You will not be like that _fool_.” He later found out his grandfather’s Social Security and pension were less than nothing, which meant the private tutors Viktor’s family could afford were out of the question. So Yuri was enrolled in middle school, which was shitty but at least it wasn't torture, then high school, which was slightly less shitty. 

But after this weekend it was about to get real shitty. Maybe even torturous. Fuck.

++

He remembered Psalms 23:4, from his old Youth Group bible study, as he slinked through the east wing, toward first hour, Monday morning. 

_Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me_. 

He said that to himself so many times when he was a kid, when his mom and stepbastards would hit him, when the kids would crowd around him at school and call him Tutu Ballerina, and when that one stepbastard, Brad, would come around his room when his mother was passed out, calling him pretty, and jiggle the locked doorknob. 

He felt just like he did back then; Yuri willed himself to keep his head up and pretend he was just fine. He sure as hell was not going to look weak even if his insides felt like fucking oatmeal. Fuck that. 

But nothing happened. Not in the hallway. Not when he sat at his desk. Nothing, until he got a text from a number he didn't have in his contacts. 

_Hey, I got your bag_

He closed his eyes. Fuck. All weekend he'd been waiting and wondering and cringing inside, and this was what it came down to. This person, whoever they were, had his dance bag. What was worse, they obviously opened it. They read that _If Lost Please Call Yuri@_ tag on the inner lining. They had to have put two and two together when they saw the damn tights and dance slippers.

[Yuri] _Who is this?_

He had to make this quick. Mr Katsuki was already writing some bullsit on the smart board and it was all-phones-gone when the last bell rang. 

He didn't have to wait long.

_Otabek Altin_

++

Otabek Altin was only the hottest football player at West High School. Whoever heard the words _brooding good looks_ or _strong, silent type_ , was thinking about this guy. He was this perfect, cut, Asian Adonis whose parents were from Kazahkstan. When he walked down the hallway, it was like Moses parting the Red Sea: people moved out of the way, and simply stared in awe of the marvel they made way for. It was like poetry when he moved, and deep thunder rolling over the tundra or some such shit, when he spoke. 

He made every girl cream and every guy have wet dreams. Teachers adored him. Not only was he in AP everything, but he was StuCo Vice- President, a tutor, President of the Muslim Student Alliance, Vice President of the Gay-Straight Alliance -- not to mention a West High Varsity Football fullback and probably Class Valedictorian. He was like an untouchable god. 

He would have been King of the School if JJ LeRoy wasn't the Varsity Quarterback and StuCo President, President of the Gay-Straight Alliance, President of the Student Athletes Club, and Head Tool West. Yeah, that douche even called himself the King. How a guy like Otabek could be friends Jean-Jackass was beyond Yuri. Grandpa always said birds of a feather flock together, so maybe Otabek was some kind of secret jackass. 

Yuri was about to find out. 

++

He was sitting in the courtyard, earbuds in, lost in the music, when he felt the tap on his shoulder. 

“Yuri?”

He hit pause and pushed his sunglasses up. It was him. 

“Hey, man. You got it?” He didn't bother turning around, but the black mini duffel was dropped on the concrete at his feet. “Wow. I guess you do.”

“Not anymore. Mind if I sit?”

Wow, really? Yuri quickly pocketed his phone and pulled his hoodie down a little more. This guy obviously knew Yuri’s secret. “So…”

“You into dance, huh?”

He didn't want to look at his face. “No, I'm a boxer.”

“I tried ballet, back when I was a kid. I sucked.”

Otabek Altin took _ballet_? Yuri pulled his hoodie back a little and smiled. “You sucked at something? That kind of information could ruin your reputation.”

God, he had the clearest, golden skin. He fucking glowed. And his eyes - man! They weren't brown. They were chocolate. Yuri could spend the rest of his life staring into those eyes. Yeah, him and about a million other people. “Let’s just say I feel safe sharing it with you.” 

“Why are you even telling me this?”

“Because you were in that class.”

Huh? Yuri pulls the hoodie off his head so fast that he nearly yanked his ponytail out, too. “Yakov’s Dance Academy?”

The wind ruffled Otabek's hair as he looked away. “I was the worst student they ever had. They put me in the ten year old’s class, even though I was thirteen. It was a disaster.”

Yuri blinked. “Huh?”

“I like ballet. Always have. It's beautiful. It just doesn't like me.”

His mind was blown. He couldn't speak. But Otabek could, so he did. 

“I remember you, the way you pushed yourself, the way you moved. It was like you were a martial artist fighting an invisible enemy. You were amazing.”

Him, a martial artist? Yuri would've laughed if he wasn't so fucking charmed. “Wow. I bet you say that to all the guys who leave lose their dance bags at house parties.”

“Only the cute blonde ones with leopard print hoodies.” He didn't smile, but he almost - almost! - grinned. Yuri would've sworn on his own feet that he _did_. Wait - this guy was a flirt?

“Oh, now that was smooth.” 

“You think so?”

Yuri nodded with an-oh-so-serious face. “I'm shocked, young man.”

He was about to say something when a voice from hell boomed out of nowhere: “Hey! Beka!” It was King JJ, his Royal Shitiness. 

“Wups. Looks like your boyfriend caught us.”

Otabek got up. “Hey, Jean.”

“What're you doing, man? I was looking everywhere for you.” JJ smiled the most hateable smile Yuri had ever seen. “I was gonna go to Pizza Hut for lunch, but you skipped out on me for this guy. Care to introduce?” 

Otabek turned back to face Yuri. “Jean, you remember Yuri. He was at the party.”

“You're even prettier up close.” Yeah. Like a fucking fairy or something. Thanks. “Yuri. What is that, Russian?” 

“Yeah.” He got up and picked up his bag. “I'm a Russian spy infiltrating American public schools.” 

He showed every tooth when he laughed. “Shit, Beka! He's a fucking comedian! I like this kid!” Otabek just stood there as JJ slapped his back. It was the most awkward shit, ever. 

But hey, Otabek didn't say one word about the bag. Yuri’s secret was still safe.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri sets the ground rules when Otabek starts to push.

Yuri added Otabek’s number to his contacts list, not because he ever intended to text it, he just liked the idea of seeing that name when he scrolled down. He also looked for him on Instagram. Not much luck. He was in a couple of group shots, that was it, and he didn't have an account. He was nowhere on social media - Yuri even went to Facebook (horrors!) and found nothing. 

It was kind of frustrating. 

“You haven't dropped out of school, yet?” 

Yuri was sitting on the bus stop bench, waiting for his grandpa to pick him up. “Don't you have a car and a bottle to go home to, old man?”

Viktor sighed. “You want a ride?”

“I got a ride.” He went back to his phone. 

“Lilia says she wants to train you six days a week. With your talent, it will guarantee you become Soloist by the time you're seventeen. I want you to do it.”

“Then I'll take your position and force you to retire, old man.”

He ran a hand through that thinning hair. The fucker was still ridiculously good looking, but he was probably going to be bald by the time he hit thirty-five. Good. “Not at this rate, you won't.”

“So damn arrogant. Whatever.”

“Georgi has told Lilia he wants to be Soloist.” Georgi was a loser, but he was older than Yuri, and stood a good chance of getting that position. 

Yuri looked up. “He's a crybaby. He will crack under pressure, as usual.”

He was making his this-is-serious face. “Georgi is stronger than you think. Tell Yakov you want extra studio time and I'm sure -”

“More studio time is more money we don't have and handouts are out of the question!”

“Scholarship, Yuri. It is a scholarship and you already earned it!”

“Fuck off and no! That old bastard - “ he pointed at the studio “ - took out a second mortgage on his house just to keep those doors open. So if you think I am taking bread out of his mouth just because Georgi thinks he's got a pecker now, then you're already drunk and you should call a cab!”

He smiled, but he was actually sad. “Did you ever stop to think Yakov was willing to take out a second mortgage just to help students like you?” He shook his head. “No, of course not. That would mean you're not the only person in the world with a heart, and you can't stand that idea.”

“Choke on a dick, Nikiforov.”

Yuri’s phone buzzed just as that annoying asshole walked away. It was _him_.

[Otabek] _Sorry about JJ_

He just stared at the words until a car horn jarred him back to earth. Viktor and Mila were waving goodbye. He sneered back at them. 

[Yuri] _he's your friend not mine_

Shit. It was a dick thing to say, but he was still heated over Georgi and that scholarship shit. Yuri winced and put his phone back in his pocket. Otabek was just trying to be nice and he probably had better things to do than talk to some asshole, anyway. 

It buzzed in his pocket. 

[Otabek] _you got me there_

[Yuri] _sorry_

Not really.

[Otabek] _he’s a good person once you get to know him_

[Yuri] _i’ll take your word for it_

He could feel his blistered feet tingling as he waited for the answer, loving the way those birds in the background chirped and how the sunshine was warming his back. 

[Otabek] _you think we can be friends?_

Otabek Altin, Mr Teen Dream, wanted to be his friend? 

[Yuri] _are you going to ask me to text y or n??_

[Otabek] _sure_

“Yuri Vladimir Plisetsky!” His Grandpa was parked right in front of the bus stop. “Stop playing with that phone and get in the car!”

++

[Mila] _whats this shit about dropping out and why won't you take Yakov’s scholarship?_

Fucking Mila. She always had to play mother hen with Yuri. It was eleven at night and all he wanted to do was listen to his earbuds and lay in bed until he could go to sleep, dancing to applause in his dreams. 

[Yuri] _the fuck? quit drinking with that old man. he talks too much shit and not into hairy tacos dumBass_

[Mila] _omg fuck you viktor just worries about you and so do i_

[Yuri] _dropping out delayed for now and yes I'm going to be soloist so fuck you and goodnight_

Yuri put her on block and turned up his music. He fell asleep imagining himself dancing alone on stage, and Otabek Altin himself was watching. 

It was amazing. 

++

Yuri actually wanted to go to school the next day because he knew it wasn't going to suck. He told himself it was because his secret was safe, but he would never admit to another living soul that wanted to look good because a certain football player was texting him. 

He was dressed in his tiger striped leggings and black boots, and was going to wear his crop too, until Grandpa made him march right back upstairs for a _respectable_ shirt, which turned out to be a black see-thru blouse with a tanktop underneath. It didn't escape Grandpa’s evil eye but it did make it to the Chevette car door. 

“Is this for the boys?”

He made a face. “I just wanna dress up. It's totally crossword puzzles, Grandpa.”

“Hm.” He slammed the driver's side door shut and drove an unholy 22 mph down the road. Grandpa was practically speeding! “I want to meet this boy of yours, Yurachka. It doesn't look like you're doing crossword puzzles in that outfit of yours.”

“Nah. I'm just happy.”

“You can be happy with a button down shirt and slacks, too.”

Yuri was grinning from ear to ear as people stared at him in the hallway. He knew he looked good (he wasn't stupid) but damn, people were looking at him like he was the Second Coming of Sex. 

Not that he cared - of course not! He just liked thinking he could be. 

The grin turned into a full-on smile when he was about to walk into Mr Katsuki’s room. And he would have -- if there wasn't an arm blocking him. The arm was attached to JJ LeRoy. 

“Looking good, Yuri.” Slowly, as if he was able to make seconds stretch, he reached for Yuri’s filmy cuff and rubbed it between his fingers. “This is pretty. Who you wearing it for?”

He didn't have to tell him a damn thing, but he wasn't going to be a pussy either. “Your mother. Now let me through, douche.”

“Oh, wow, princess! I was just making conversation.” 

Princess? He didn't like the sound of that. It wasn’t _tutu ballerina_ , but it was suspect. Yuri narrowed his eyes. “I didn't know douche nozzles could talk.”

“Hey, calm down. You know Otabek thinks you're cute, right?” 

Oh, really? Yuri gritted his teeth. He had a pretty good feeling he knew what he was saying about Yuri, too! What a motherfucking double crossing asshole! 

“Move!”

LeRoy lifted his arm just high enough for Yuri to duck his head and make it inside. “Why certainly, babe.”

And if things couldn't get any worse...

Viktor was sitting in his chair, smiling his crazy smile at Mr Katsuki, who was turning all these weird shades of red as he played with his tie. 

“What fresh hell is this?” He tossed his backpack on the desk. 

“Yuri! You could've hit me!” Viktor had the nerve to look upset. 

“How'd you get in here?”

Mr Katsuki blinked, a lot, then managed to say: “Well, he's your father, so they let him in. I guess he's your adoptive father since he's so young? Wow, he's really worried about you and just wanted to check on you and wow he's really concerned and… _wow_.”

Viktor handed him a business card. (Since when did he have those?) “Please call me of you have any concerns, Mr Katsuki.” He even pressed it into his hands - and winked. Ugh! Viktor was making a move on Yuri’s fucking math teacher! _Disgusting!_ “And if you don't mind, I'll be taking little Yuri out for a special breakfast.”

“N-n-not at all!”

++

Yuri was going to kill Viktor. He had a plan and everything. He'd wait until he stepped out of his stupid Lexus, then slide into the driver’s seat and run his ass right over, hit reverse and repeat until he was a greasy puddle of goo. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are, coming into my school, pretending to be my dad?”

“Your dad?”

“You're an asshole, you know that?”

He chuckled. “I'm the asshole who got you out of school for a little while. Besides, Mr Katsuki assumed I was your father. As charming as he is, he tends to jump to conclusions, doesn't he?”

“You told him I was dropping out, didn't you? Do you even realize Grandpa’s going to hear about this? He's going to have a fucking heart attack, asshole!”

“I just said I wanted to take you to breakfast. That's all.”

Yuri stared out the window. “So what's the deal? You don't get up at the ass crack of dawn to do anything unless you have to.”

“Want to. I never do what I don't want to do. And you're right. There is a deal. We will discuss over breakfast.”

So he took him to Johnny’s Egg and ordered a spinach omelet cooked in egg whites for the both of them, with lots of black coffee. Yuri tapped his fingers and checked his phone. Otabek texted him again. 

[Otabek] _Sorry about JJ. He really does want to be friends too._

[Yuri] _what did you tell him about me?_

“Are you texting that boy you were talking to earlier? He was very handsome, if somewhat forward.”

Yuri nearly choked on his coffee. 

“I take that as a no.” He sighed. “Good. You don't need romantic distractions this early in your career. That can wait. But this can’t.” He reached inside his fancy trillion dollar jacket and pulled out a check. “This is your scholarship money. It's not from Yakov, but from me.”

Yuri suddenly felt like his head was a balloon and it was floating away.

“This will cover all the daily lessons Lilia. Modern dance, jazz included, and of course weekend ballet.”

“You are insane…”

He popped the check on the table. “That part is the first step. I want you to reach your fullest potential, Yuri.”

Yuri suddenly realized it. “You are setting me up to replace you.”

“Is it really such a surprise? Time moves in one direction, Yuri. I’m not getting any younger and I want to see what else life has to offer. Besides, you're right. Georgi is a nice boy, a hard worker, but he cracks under pressure where you excel with it.”

His phone buzzed, but he ignored it. “So that's it?”

“That's it. Take the check, Yuri. It's money well spent as far as I'm concerned. Yakov will have his next Principal Dancer and I'll be happy knowing it's you. It's a great opportunity. Just take it.”

Yuri put the check in his backpack. “You know I'm still going to hate you, right?”

“Don't hate me too much. Tell me about Mr Katsuki. Is he single?”

Yeah, the whole scholarship thing threw him for a loop, but he saw that coming a mile away. “Of course he is. How many people want tubby high school math teachers?”

“What are you talking about? He's adorable! I’m going to invite him out for drinks tonight.”

“Just… leave me out of that whole situation.” Yuri was going to say something else, but their food arrived. Ah! Yuri loved raisin toast!

++

“Did you get my text?”

Yuri wasn't expecting a phone call from Otabek, but he got it anyway, just as Grandpa dropped him off at practice. “The one where you said you only told LeRoy you thought I was cute?” He kicked a rock as he loitered at the entryway. “Cute, like a _ballerina_?”

“I did not tell him anything about your ballet. That is your business to tell, not mine.”

Yuri turned on his heel and blinked. This guy… Was he for real? “You sure about that?”

“Yuri, why would I gossip about the the boy I want to talk to?”

Yuri frowned. He didn't have time or energy to waste on sex. Maybe he could pull that kind of shit off last year, but not now. Not when he was looking at six days a week of practice and a shot at an actual career in the only thing he ever wanted to do. 

“Look Otabek, I'm not exactly available.”

“You already have someone?”

“Yeah. Ballet.” 

“Yeah, I know the feeling. Practice til you drop, study til you pass out, wake up, repeat. Right?”

“Something like that.” Yuri nodded. “So you get where I'm at?”

“Let’s just say, as an overachiever myself, I don't blame you for feeling that way.”

Yuri snorted. “You really think you're going to get in my pants, don't you?”

“I want to.”

Yuri had to laugh. Otabek was fucking direct. Hey, he had to give the guy credit. “Look, let’s just stick to friends.”

“I can work with that.”

“Don't work with it. Just deal.” He ducked around the corner when Viktor and Mila pulled up. Shit. He needed to make this quick. 

“Please don't get the wrong idea, okay?” It was bad enough that Yuri was trying to fight off those same ideas. But if Otabek was as amazing as he seemed, it might be worth shaking off a stupid crush. “Listen, I gotta go before my instructor puts out a missing persons report on me.”

“Call you, tonight?”

“No, my dude. You had your quota for the day.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Otabek puts it out there.

So he was going to have dance lessons six days a week. Georgi was pissed, but what could he do? Yakov’s scholarship only covered one extra day while the Nikiforov Endowment - as it was unofficially christened - was much more substantial. 

“It's not fair!” Georgi was slamming his dance bag all over the place as he crammed his shit back in. “You gays! You always stick together!”

Mila rolled her eyes. “Please tell me you're going to make this part of your conspiracy theories. I love it when you talk about lizard people and the Illuminati.”

“They want us all to be gay so they can keep us from having more children! They pollute the water with chemicals that have been proven to make frogs gay! So of course - “ he pointed at Yuri.

“So, I'm being conspired against while I conspire against you. And I'm a gay frog. Brilliant, dipshit.”

“It's a vicious cycle!”

Mila patted Yuri's back. “And he wonders why Anya broke up with him.”

Oh, good one. Yuri gave her a low five for that one. “Maybe you should try some of that gay water, Georgi? You need all the help you can get.”

++

JJ tagged him on Instagram. It was a picture from the party, last Friday. Yuri and Mila were drinking beers near the pool. She had his dance bag strapped over her shoulder. 

[BigKingonCampus] _#babybae is looking fine_

What in the actual fuck did he post that shit for? 

[Mila] _did u see what that douche jj posted?_

Ugh. Mila was nonstop. He rolled over in his bed and sat up. 

[Yuri] _so?_

[Mila] _do u have something kinky going on with the football team?_

[Yuri] _uh, no. he's just got the wrong idea about me and otabek and now he thinks whatvr_

[Mila] _u said u didnt even know them last week u didnt want to crash their party and now ur friends?_

[Yuri] _just with o_

He scrolled through JJ’s account. There were a lot - a shit ton - of selfies, maybe a couple with Otabek. They almost looked like a couple. Huh. 

_you there?_

[Yuri] _yes fuck off with your weird shit pls_

[Otabek] _sorry_

Oh, fuck! 

[Yuri] _my bad!! thought you were someone else_

[Otabek] _It’s okay. How was practice?_

What in the fuck did that even mean? Practice was _practice_. His phone buzzed again. This guy was fucking persistent! 

[Otabek] _Can I call you?_

He didn't text back. He just called Otabek, himself. 

“Quota, Otabek.”

“You could have said no thanks, but you called me, instead.”

His pacing was going to wear a hole in his leopard print throw rug. “Newsflash: If you wanna talk to a guy, you don't bug him when he says he's done talking to you for the rest of the day.”

“So we _are_ talking.”

Yuri yanked his ponytail out and began scratching his scalp, viciously. “Look, you're ridiculously sexy and everything, but you and me are not going to happen. I'm busy.”

“You think I'm sexy?”

He was _not_ going to laugh at that. No way. “Don't change the subject!”

“I think you're amazing, Yuri. Sweet dreams”

Yuri stopped pacing. “Are you for real?” 

“Can I talk to you again, soon?”

“Seriously?” He hung up, put his phone on airplane mode and stuffed his earplugs in. He did not have time for this crazy shit. 

++

Yuri got a text from Mila first hour, saying she was gonna be out because of her period (bullshit). The only reason he was able to read it was because Mr Katsuki pulled down all his blinds and played a video about the history of zero, giving no fucks when everyone played on their phones. He was probably hung over. Viktor Nikiforov struck, again. 

JJ waved at Yuri when he was walking across the courtyard for fifth hour English. Yuri made eye contact. It was as good as that guy was going to get. 

He told himself he wasn't looking for Otabek and absolutely _not_ disappointed when he didn't see or hear from him. He had other things, serious things, on his mind. 

Like ballet. 

Mila was there, because her periods didn't happen in the studio, only when she wanted to skip school. And she was all over Yuri, begging him not to get into wild orgies with football players, as loudly as possible. 

“Will you shut the fuck up, Mila?”

Too late: It was breaking his concentration. He fell twice and nearly twisted his ankle on the second jump he fucked up. Lilia threw three kinds of shit fits and sent him out, early. Thing was, Grandpa wasn't answering the house phone. He was probably out running errands and he didn't do cell phones, and everyone else was still in the studio. Yuri was stuck. So he paced around outside, humiliated and wondering if he should take the bus. 

Who was he kidding? He wasn't going to take the fucking bus. He was going to call the asshole who'd been fucking with his head all day. God, he was so pathetic...

“Hey.” Otabek answered the phone as if he'd been expecting this call. 

“You remember where Yakov’s studio is?”

“Yeah.”

“Come get me.”

Five minutes later this motorcycle to came revving up to the curb like something out of a damn movie. At first he thought was some perv biker until Otabek took off his helmet. 

Holy Blessed Virgin Mother and All the Saints… He was fucking sex in leather and denim. “Get on.” He tossed his helmet at him and somehow (how?) Yuri had the presence of mind to even catch it. 

He jumped on the back, wrapped his arms around Otabek and they positively flew down the road. 

It was like a blur. Yuri had never been on one of these things before, but he wasn't scared. He wasn't even aware of where they were going. All he knew was Otabek’s ass was pressed against his crotch and his abs bunched up under his fingers every time he took a turn. Oh, fuck! Yuri wanted to plant his face against his black leather jacket and _lick it all the way up to the back of his neck_.

Wait. _No, he absolutely did not_. 

Otabek took him to Hemmington Lake, which was nowhere near his apartment complex. But it wasn't like Yuri even told him where he lived. 

When they got off, they just stood there, watching the sailboats drift in front of the sunset, while Yuri wondered what he was supposed to say or do. “You're like the master of awkward, Altin.”

“Yeah.” 

Yuri turned to say something else, something that was probably super clever and amazing, then realized Otabek was not looking at the scenery at all. He was looking at him. “I shouldn't have called you.”

“I'm glad you did.”

“I didn't lose my bag last Friday. You took it, didn't you?”

“I'm shy.” 

_He knew it!_ Yuri snorted. “I figured that out before I even called you. I must be insane or retarded.”

“You might as well know, I've crushed on you since I saw you again, last year.”

Yuri felt the ground tilt, just a little. This couldn't be real life. Sure, he was cute and all, but no one crushed on Yuri Plisetsky. He was an asshole and everyone knew it. Well, obviously not Mr Wonderful over there. God, this was crazy. 

What was he supposed to say? _You've been fucking me up all day and that's not helping?_ Yuri picked up a flat rock and skipped it across the water. “I don't know how I'm supposed to respond to that.” He picked up another rock. 

Otabek stopped his hand before he was able to throw it. “You don't have to. It's enough that you called me.” A bird chirped overhead as Otabek cradled his hand, gently, as if it was made of the most breakable glass. 

No, he was not going to acknowledge that it felt so good when he touched him. Not at all. “You're a liar, you know? Remember that whole ‘let's be friends,’ thing? Liar.” Fuck! He was touching his wrist and making him shiver! 

“You're right. I lied when I said that. All I can think about is how badly I want you.”

He should've snatched his hand away. He should have, but he couldn't. “Take me back to the studio. This was a stupid mistake.”

Otabek looked up. Oh, god! The way he looked at Yuri! Like he could eat him alive, right there! But he didn't move. Yuri just stood there, staring right back at him.

“What are you, deaf? I don't want to be here!”

Otabek stared at his mouth as he nodded. 

“Come on, man.” That was when he found the strength to snatch his hand back. “I can’t.” He found his phone turned away. 

“Hey, Viktor. Wait at the studio for my grandpa. Tell him I'll be there in a sec if I'm late. Yeah, no. I'm just out with a friend for some fresh air. Okay. Yeah. No, my ankle’s fine. Yeah, whatever.”

He faced Otabek, again. “Here's the deal. You take me back to the studio and drop me off. You get on Tindr or Grindr or call some chick, dude, whatever, and get laid.” He went to the bike and put the helmet on. “And get that look off your face, Altin. We’re cool.”

If the first ride was awkward, the second took awkward to a whole other level, especially when they pulled up at the studio, in front of Yuri’s grandfather’s Chevette. 

++

“So you like the boys in biker gangs, Yurachka?”

He nearly spat out his borsche. “No, Grandpa! He's just a friend from school.”

“A friend you see instead of staying at practice.” His red face spelled disapproval. “And what is this about Viktor giving you monies for more lessons? Why do I have to hear it from that boy instead of my own grandson?”

What Yuri swallowed nearly got stuck in his throat. “I should have told you.”

“You're keeping a lot of secrets from me. It's no good. You sure you're not seeing this gangster boy?”

“Oh, absolutely not!”

He tapped his finger against the plywood kitchen table. “I don't like gangsters. I came to this country to get away from those types of people. You see what they're doing to Mother Russia? That Putin!” Yuri knew the only thing keeping his grandpa from spitting after he said that name was good manners. “Gangsters are scum. Dishonest scum. You will not associate with these types.”

After all his grandpa had done for him, saving him from his mother’s countless abusive boyfriends and husbands, supporting him in his ballet, accepting his sexuality despite his religious beliefs, he would never, ever treat him with anything but the utmost respect. 

But he wasn't going to let him believe something that wasn't true, either. That was part of respect. 

“I didn't know he had a motorcycle. His dad is an architect or something. They're from Kazakhstan. He's a varsity football player at my school and he's probably going to graduate at the head of the class this year.”

His grandpa’s eyebrows went up as he put his fork down. “That boy?”

Yuri nodded.

“A good student? A football player?”

“Yes, Grandpa.”

“Well, Kazakhs have always been a bit different.” He shrugged and went back to his borsche. “Maybe he isn't a gangster.”

“Not a gangster, grandpa.”

“But that motorcycle...”

Yuri looked at the wall clock, wondering if Otabek took his advice and got some ass. Well, he got to see what an asshole Yuri really was, today, so he probably did. 

Fuck life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been blown away by the response and incredible kindness you guys have shown me. Thank you so much!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who does Yuri call when his world falls apart?

Yuri had a substitute in first hour. “Where the hell is Mr Katsuki?” He just got a shrug from the square told woman sitting on his desk and a stack of worksheets big enough to keep him doing equations until he was an old man. 

Turned out Viktor decided he wanted to start on sampling life before retirement and took Mr Katsuki to Tahiti. “Can you believe it?” Mila bumped her ass against Yuri’s (gross) as she sat next to him in the courtyard during lunch. “They just met and Viktor’s in love already.”

Yuri snorted. “Maybe they've been dating secretly. I mean, Mr Katsuki looks like he's already in his second trimester.”

“Be nice, asshole.” He bit into her lettuce and lettuce wrap. 

“Fuck no, asshole.”

She rolled her eyes and looked like a cow when she talked with her mouth full. Lovely! “Can your grandpa give me a ride?”

“Throw in some gas money, loser.” He held out his hand. She popped him a five. “I said money, not change.” He got five more. “Oh my god. You better have more, tomorrow.”

++

Everything seemed fine when they drove Mila all the way home to fucking Timbuktu (the south side). Yuri bragged about how he was totally nailing the John Cage routine and Lilia was ragging about having to deal with Georgi instead of Viktor as a partner. It was fine, normal. 

The ride back to the apartment wasn't. 

At first it was something little: Grandpa said his shoulder hurt. Well, it always sort of hurt because his back always hurt. But then his arm hurt. Yuri kept thinking that didn't sound right. And it wasn't right. Not at all. Grandpa turned white as a sheet and hit a trash can when he parked the car at their complex. 

It was when needed help getting out of the car that Yuri knew something was really, really wrong. 

He wanted to panic when Grandpa couldn't get up the stairs; he sat on the steps and started coughing, instead. Then clutching his chest. “Yuri…” He shook his head and then he couldn't say anything. 

He was having a heart attack. 

Yuri almost forgot the number for 911, then tried so fucking hard to sound calm when he told the bitch on the other line they needed an ambulance and hurry and here's the address and come on where are they…?

“Yuri…”

He sang old nursery rhymes in the worst Russian on the planet. He recited Psalms, he rocked him, told him corny jokes and talked about the retarded neighbors who got evicted a few months back for hoarding cats. It took everything in him to keep talking, keep him going, because he couldn't, couldn't die like this. 

He wanted to scream when the ambulance rambled up - without its sirens on. 

They wanted information, name, age, what did he eat - Yuri blinked and went blank for a minute. He had to concentrate to remember anything. 

Then the big one with a rotten tooth said, “You can't get in with him. Drive to the hospital.”

“I don't have a license!”

“Make a call. Get an Uber. Isn't that what you kids are into?”

When they have money! He kicked the trash can and wailed as they closed the doors and took him away. Who could he call? Viktor was gone, in lala land, stuffing a pig. Who the fuck did he know?

He fell to his knees, bowed his head and prayed. 

_Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me..._

He heard an engine gunning down the street and opened his eyes. It was a long shot, he probably wasn't going to pick up if Yuri's number wasn't blocked already, but he had to try, for Grandpa. 

But he did pick up. "Otabek?"

He arrived within minutes, like a knight in shining fucking armor, rising that crazy motorcycle. Yuri took his helmet and got on, holding him tight, hoping the strength of that strong back would somehow seep into him. 

God, Otabek was too good for him. 

++

The halogen lights were going to suck the life out everything in that room. Yuri rubbed his eyes and paced as they did their worst. 

“Sit down.”

“I can't.”

Otabek put two cups of terrible coffee on the table and took a hold of his shoulders. “Have some coffee with me.”

“It's probably shit.”

“It's hospital coffee. It's supposed to be shit.”

Yuri sat next to him and shook his head. “Then it needs lots of cream and sugar.”

Otabek practically teleported to the little kitchenette cabinet and grabbed loads of everything: sugar packets, Sweet & Low, non dairy and dairy creamer, the super skinny short straws… 

“You should open a coffee shop with all that shit.”

“Be my first customer. What will the gentlemen have?”

Yuri almost laughed when a nurse in pink scrubs came in the waiting room. “Yuri Ply-set-sky? Did I say that right?”

“No, but go ahead.”

“Your grandfather needs to stay a few days for observation. He had a heart attack, and we need to run some tests and build a therapy plan for him.” Otabek patted his knee. “You can see him, honey. Go say goodnight and let him know you love him. He's been asking about you.”

Otabek waited outside the hospital room as he kissed his Grandpa’s forehead. Oh, god! He had all these wires all around him, all these tubes and machines and those metal rails... He tried not to cry, somehow, and actually smiled as he told him how much he loved him. “You can't die on me, Grandpa. I haven't even made Soloist yet!”

All he could do was smile and nod back. 

They wouldn't even let him stay at the hospital overnight. They said he was too young, that he had to leave and get his rest. They could all kiss the strawberry birthmark on his fairy ass. 

Rest! Yuri kicked the sycamore tree near the parking lot and cursed them all. “I'm all he has and they won't let me stay with him?! Really?!”

Otabek gathered him in his arms and let Yuri wail and curse and hit his chest until he had nothing left but tears. “It's okay,” he kept saying. “It's okay, Yuri.”

God, he felt like a balloon that was going to float away, and the only thing keeping him anchored and safe was holding on to Otabek. Yuri buried his face in his chest and hid in his warmth. “You don't have to do this.”

“I know. I want to.” He gently rubbed his back. “I'll go home with you, tonight. You can't be alone after this.”

Yuri moaned. He knew what would happen if he did that. Yuri was weak but he wasn't stupid. They end up in bed together. Yuri wasn't looking for complications. He was a fuckbuddy lay, a part time slut, and that was on a good day. Otabek deserved something better than being used by some asshole who told him off for having a crush on him. Otabek was a good guy - no! - a _great_ guy. “I don't think so.”

Otabek tipped his chin up. “Why?”

His eyes were so deep, so warm and deep. Yuri couldn't stand it. “You've got better things to do.”

“Let me decide that.” Otabek put his leather jacket over Yuri’s shoulders and framed his face in his hands, drying his tears with the pads of his thumbs. “Let me take you home.” Yuri whimpered as he bent his head and blotted out the stars with one kiss. “Please?”

He was too weak. All he could do was nod.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Otabek can kiss it, but can he make it all better?

He barely remembered the ride back to his apartment. He just clutched Otabek’s body like he was a life raft. Somehow he was up the stairs in their complex and he didn't even remember Otabek taking his keys to unlock the door. He was walking in a haze. 

Otabek stepped into his room without an invitation. Stripped him of the jacket, the scarf, then nudged him on the stool so he could pull off his sneakers and socks. 

“Now stand up.” He took off his t shirt, then had him step out of his leggings. Otabek cleared his throat by the time he was standing in his briefs. “Bathroom.”

He started the shower tap and pulled a fresh towel from the dinky little rack. “Take a shower.” He turned around quickly, so Yuri could take off his underwear and get inside.

It was like he was sleepwalking. His head was fuzzy and his thoughts were scattered. All he knew was grandpa was in the hospital and Otabek was - was - _taking care of him_. 

Yuri snapped out of his fog as the the shower door suddenly opened and Otabek - practically naked except for the boxer briefs he was wearing - was with him. He couldn't stop staring at the beautiful body catching droplets of water, and licked his lips, imagining his tongue swiping those beads off his skin. 

“You need to wash before the tap goes cold.” He squirted shampoo in his hands and began working it into his hair. His fingers were firm. His voice as curt. Yuri hissed as it stung the scalp he'd scratched up. “Yuri! You made yourself bleed.”

“S’gross. Sorry.”

He rinsed the sting away. “You treat yourself badly.”

Yuri closed his eyes and shuddered as Otabek rubbed a soapy hand towel into his shoulders, his chest, then lower. He flinched when he reached down to wash his thighs, then moaned when he pressed the towel into Yuri’s hand to wash himself between his legs. 

“Yuri...”

He turned him around to work on his back, and lower. It took everything in Yuri not to arch against the hot water and fucking offer himself right then and there. He was already half hard and aching. 

He toweled Yuri dry, then himself, draped it over Yuri’s shoulders, then linked their fingers together as he led Yuri back into his bedroom. 

“Pajamas?”

“Sweatpants, tees, top left drawer.”

“Any food in your kitchen?”

“Leftover Piroshki, mashed potato pancakes.”

He nodded. “Let's get you dressed and fed.”

“I should dress myself.”

Otabek stared at him for a long time, until he finally said, “You have five minutes.”

He was back in exactly five, wearing a pair of sweatpants that were too big for Yuri, but snug and low slung on Otabek, with two plates in hand. 

“Hope your grandfather doesn't mind if we eat in here.”

Yuri took the plate as Otabek sat next to him on the mattress. “He's not going to know.” 

“When we’re done I'll take them back to the kitchen.”

They wolfed down the food in silence. Yuri caught a glimpse of Otabek watching him as he ate. His eyes narrowed when Yuri licked his lips. 

Otabek took their plates back to the kitchen. Yuri could hear him run the tap, and the muffled clack of the dishes. He thought about telling him to leave, go home, and forget about it, that he'd be fine on his own. 

Who was he kidding? 

Otabek stood in front of his open bedroom door, willing and waiting and so full of the warmth he needed so, so much. He held his hand out, whispering -

 _”Please?_ ”

“You don't have to beg.” Otabek stood in front of him, now, tilted his head and took Yuri’s hand. “I'm already here.” He put Yuri’s hand on his chest and bent down so he could place his knuckles on the mattress. “Right here, if you want me.” Yuri could feel his heartbeat, it was fast, and he could hear his breath hitch when he moved his hand over his skin. “Whatever you want,” he whispered. “Whatever you want, I'll do it.”

“Fuck me.”

The mattress creaked as he shifted his weight. “How?”

Yuri dragged dragged his lips across his chest and inhaled the delicious scent. “Me on my back. You on top of me. I want to see you.”

He threaded his fingers through Yuri’s hair and gently tugged so he could see it: the hunger in Otabek’s eyes. It made him whimper. 

“Then look.” His voice was deep and low. He pushed Yuri back, pulled down his pants, then yanked them away. Yuri gasped when Otabek put his knee between his thighs as leaned down into the mattress, trapping him between his arms. 

Yuri gasped again when he pushed his knee upward, right there, and kept it there, making him arch his back. Otabek caught his mouth and kissed him, softly, then dipped his tongue inside. Yuri smiled into the kiss. He tasted like Piroshki. 

His muscles bunched under Yuri's hands, and he moaned as his touch slipped down, slowly, to cup his ass under the sweats. God! He felt so good! So good! So mmuch better than anyone else he'd ever been with. Yuri wrapped his legs around his waist and thrust against him. He pulled his mouth away. “Lube in my nightstand drawer.”

Otabek found it almost instantly. He propped Yuri’s ass up on his knee and spread his legs. “Oh, Yuri…” He shook his head and popped the lid open. “You are so beautiful.” He dribbled it on his fingers, then on him. “This isn't your first time, is it?” He pressed his finger against him. 

“No.”

He pushed in, just a little, just enough for that burn that always made Yuri squirm around. “You like that?”

Yuri bit his lip. “Don't go slow.”

That got him a second fingertip. Yuri bit his thumb this time, but Otabek pulled his hand away and kissed his fingers as he pushed in. “Don't.” 

“Fuck!” Yuri thrashed his head back and forth, working his hips up and down so he could fight through the sting. “More!”

He pushed in more, then slowly pulled out, making soft little shushing sounds as Yuri gritted his teeth. “You sure you're okay?”

“Sure. It's supposed to hurt.”

Otabek winced. “Not that much.” He went back to one finger, then pushed in again. “Who ever told you that didn't know what they were doing.”

Yuri didn't want to think about that; he just wanted to get through this part. “Just hurry, okay?”

“No.” He curled his finger up and - oh, oh, oh! 

“Otabek!” Yuri grabbed his arm and reeled as that finger pushed and pushed and pushed - oh, god! Oh, _fuck!_

“Still want to get this part out of the way?” He was actually _smiling_. 

“Just keep doing - oh, yeah! - just keep doing that -”

Otabek leaned in to nip his earlobe. “I didn't think so.” 

Yuri didn't know when one became two or two became three. All he knew was it made him jerk and whine and wail every time Otabek pushed up into into him like that. 

“You drive me crazy, you know that? I've been touching myself, thinking about you. Wanting to fuck you in every way possible til you don't remember anything but me, inside of you.”

Yuri moaned as his fingers slammed into him, over and over. 

“Watching you walk down the hallway, knowing you're there: the most erotic creature I've ever seen.”

“God, Ota-”

“I stay awake, staring at my ceiling, so fucking hard, just thinking about you.”

Suddenly, quickly, Otabek was sitting up, and pulling down his borrowed sweats. Yuri sat up and whined. He was uncut and _huge_. Yuri reached out for him and - yes! Otabek growled as he touched him. “Careful.”

“Lemme…” He began to tug. “I wanna suck you.”

It took him just a moment to slide to the floor and kneel. “Keep talking dirty.” Otabek stood in front of him, stroking himself. Yuri cupped his balls and smiled when Otabek’s breath hissed. 

“I was just telling you how I felt.”

“Then you're a pervert.” Yuri put Otabek’s hands on the back of his head, then pulled his foreskin back. “I like it.” He opened his mouth and leaned in. 

Otabek muttered. “You might as well know I wanted to fuck you at the party.” 

Yuri sucked the tip of his cock as he looked into his eyes, then took more into his mouth before he pulled back a little. 

“You came in those black leggings and that ridiculous little t shirt that barely reaches your belly button. I couldn't stop staring at your ass.”

Yuri bobbed his head, moaning as he remembered that outfit. 

“You went outside and I followed you, wondering if I could get you alone. All I could think about was bending you over the diving board and eating you out.”

Yuri whimpered around his dick, imagining it, as Otabek began fucking his mouth. 

“I wanted to tongue fuck you. Then I wanted to fuck you on your hands and knees.” He pulled his head away, and hauled him up, kissing Yuri until he couldn't breath anymore, hands everywhere, in his hair, down his back, over his ass, between his legs, then across his nipples. 

“God, I need you to fuck me right now, or I'm going to lose my mind!”

“What did I tell you? You don't have to beg.” He pushed him back on the mattress. “Anything you want. Anytime you want it.” He climbed on top of him, wrapped his legs around him. “I'm yours.”

His fingers were back inside, pounding into him again, making Yuri pulse and ache until he pushed his hips up to meet them, over and over.

“Yours, Yuri...”

Yuri’s head fell back as Otabek moved between his legs and - “Ota _bek!_ ” There was nothing, nothing but him, everywhere. Yuri moaned. “Otabek…!“

“Yuri?” Otabek pressed his forehead against his, hands clutching Yuri’s ass as his body pulsed. 

He writhed. “Fuck me like you did in your fantasies.”

A trembling hand traced his lips. “You sure?” 

Yuri bit, then licked it. “You better, asshole.”

Otabek pinned his wrists over his head, stared into his eyes, and -

Oh, _fuck, fuck, fuck!_ Otabek slammed into him, faster and harder and - _oh, fuck!_ He arched his back, Otabek roared his name, and Yuri exploded, like a bomb. 

++

Yuri woke up to the sound of a deep voice. He recognized Otabek, but the Kazakh words sounded strange. He sat up, rubbed his eyes and groaned. His ass and belly were covered in dried come. 

Yeah, _that_ happened. 

He normally shrugged this kind of shit off. He fucked around with guys, here and there. It was usually no big deal because they weren't looking for anything more than a little fun. But Otabek? Otabek was not ‘fun.’ Otabek was a fucking force of nature. 

He padded off to the shower, and when he came out later, a little less worse for wear, with a towel wrapped around his hips, Otabek was waiting for him. “Hey.” 

“Hey.”

God, why did he have to look at him like he wanted to eat him alive? “I was just letting my mother know where I was before she sent out a search party.” 

“Listen, Otabek…”

“Yuri…”

They spoke at the same time. 

“Otabek.” Yuri pulled his hair back in a ponytail. “I appreciate everything you did for me. At the hospital. And here.”

“You are going to apologize for sleeping with me. Don’t.” He shook his head. “You needed release, Yuri. It's fine.”

Did he have to be so perfect? “I don't love you. You know that, right?”

“You love ballet.” Otabek came toward him. “I can't compete with that.” He touched his shoulder with one finger and traced a line down his chest. 

“You're going to Stanford in the fall, so don't need added complications, either. I mean, I'm a mess and you're…” Otabek touched his nipple and rubbed. _”Perfect.”_

Oh, shit…

“You can tell me to stop whenever you want. I will do whatever you want me to do.”

“Like sleep on the sofa?”

He stopped rubbing. “Is that what you want?”

Yuri couldn't say anything. All he could think about was how strong and warm Otabek was. “I don't want to be alone, tonight.”

“Then come on.” He took his hand and walked him back to his bedroom. 

++

“You've got morning breath.” Otabek whispered. 

“And morning wood.” Yuri reached over and snorted. “So do you.”

“Yuri…” Otabek groaned as Yuri went under the comforter. 

“Now your gonna have morning breath all over your dick.”

God! He loved the way he was fucking up his hair with his hands, the way he tasted in his mouth, the way he kept saying his name. He could almost imagine waking up every day like this, so he pretended he would, just for a little while. 

“Oh, Yuri…”

He kept pretending as they showered together. Otabek even made Yuri laugh with his Mohawk. They called the hospital and arranged to see his Grandpa after school, then ate toast and eggs before riding off together on Otabek’s motorcycle. It was almost like Otabek and Yuri were a real thing. 

Yuri had to admit to himself that pretending felt amazing. 

“Have a good day. Text me.” Otabek touched his fingers before he left him in front of his first hour class. It was as good as a kiss. 

Yuri ignored all the stares and giggles as he slipped into his chair and watched through the window as he entered the courtyard. Otabek turned, as if he knew Yuri was watching, and waived. He wiggled his fingers back at him. 

Wow. He needed to snap the fuck out of it. 

[Yuri] _youre going to need another ride grandpas in the hospital sorry_

[Mila] _omg im so sry bb what can i do for u????_

He took a deep breath as he watched Otabek cross the other side of the courtyard. 

[Yuri] _i’ll be ok pray for grandpa &sorry about the ride_

++

“So I'll pick you up at six, we’ll get something to eat, and go back to the hospital.”

Yuri gave Otabek the helmet with a nod. “Yeah.”

“Hey.” He tipped his chin up. “He's doing better.” 

Yuri nodded again. Grandpa was sitting up, even eating, when Yuri and Otabek came to see him. He insisted on sharing the lousy hospital cornbread with Yuri, saying he needed the energy for practice, then gave Otabek a once over. He probably figured out what was going on, but didn't have enough energy to say all the things Yuri could read in his eyes. One day Yuri wouldn't be able to see that face in anything but pictures, so he was willing to take whatever he could from the moment and tries to smile, as if it could ward off that hard fact. 

“What do you want for dinner?” 

Yuri smiled. “Pizza. But Subway is probably a better idea.”

Mila walked passed them, _with Viktor_ , and whistled as she went inside, while Viktor ignored the door. 

“Mr Motorcycle.” He tilted his head. “Friend of Yuri’s?”

Otabek squeezed Yuri’s shoulder. Friend wasn't the right word, but boyfriend didn't fit. It made Yuri wince because he deserved so much more than his usual _friend with benefits_ , or worse: _fuckbuddy_. “Mind your own business, old man.”

He ignored Yuri. “I'm Viktor Nikiforov, friend of the family. And you are?” He offered his hand. 

“Otabek Altin, sir.” He took it. Yuri could've sworn they were sizing each other up. 

“So what are your intentions with Yuri?” He crossed his arms. 

“Oh, wow. Enough.” Yuri got between them. “You're not going to talk to him like he's some kind of an asshole, okay?” He turned to Otabek. “I'll see you at six.”

Otabek nodded curtly and off he went, flying down the street. 

“I leave the country for a few days and you hook up with Mr Motorcycle?”

“Shut up.” Yuri bumped his arm as he passed. “You heard about Grandpa?”

Viktor sighed. “Mila told me.”

“Yeah. Mr Motorcycle took me to the hospital last night when those assholes in the ambulance wouldn't take me and you were busy stuffing my math teacher on a beach. So, maybe, you can turn down the Dutch Uncle routine a little?”

“Yuri, you can't blame me for caring about you.”

He pushed the door open. “He's a good guy. Better than good.”

Viktor grabbed his shoulder. “Please don't tell me it's serious. You will lose focus if you get serious.”

“Yeah? I'm not the idiot who blew off practice to fuck a fat teacher on the beach. I've been here, every day, even when my grandfather is in the hospital. So get off my ass, okay?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri and Otabek move forward. Will Yuri trip along the way?

Grandpa made them leave the hospital at eight. “Take him home, Otabek. Yurachka and I are both tired, and so are you.” He even smiled at him. “You seem to be a good boy. Maybe not a gangster.”

Otabek bowed his head out. “I promise you I am not.”

“He really isn't, I swear.” Yuri patted his Grandpa’s hand.

“You've been taking care of my grandson, haven't you?”

Otabek nodded. 

“I am old but I am not a fool. You have eyes for my grandson. I know, because I looked at his grandmother the same way.”

“Grandpa!” 

“Calm down, Yuri. He is not the type to run away from the truth.” 

Otabek cleared his throat. “I would do anything for him, sir.”

“Even if you were a young woman, Otabek, I would tell you this. Yuri needs ballet. He must not, no matter what, stop dancing. You promise me you will do everything in your power to support that, and I will give you my blessing.”

Yuri blinked. This was not crossword puzzles. 

Otabek took Yuri’s hand and laced their fingers together. “For as long as I breath, I will make sure of it.”

++

He was talking to his parents on the phone as Yuri brushed out his hair. It was so odd listening to him speak Kazakh, which was nothing like English or his grandfather’s Russian. And yet it was a part of who he was, a part Yuri didn't know. He pulled his hair away from his face and braided it back. Maybe he would never know it. 

“Hey.” Otabek was standing in his doorway, waiting for permission to come in. Yuri’s smile was all he needed. 

He got it. “No search party, tonight?”

Yuri could feel Otabek’s breath stir his hair. “Only on one condition. Mama wants to meet the Russian beauty who's stolen her son away.” 

Russian beauty? Yuri laughed. “Normally I’d kick your ass for calling me that, Altin.”

“Oh, really?” He touched the nape of Yuri’s neck and traced a line down to his fingertip. “With these?” He took his hand and rubbed his palm. 

“I said kick.” Yuri’s foot shot up in the air.

And as quick as lightening, Otabek caught it and rubbed his instep. Yuri swiveled in his stool so he face Otabek, stand up as he brought his leg to a full one hundred and eighty degree angle, mere inches away from Otabek’s face. “I broke a kid’s nose and took out three of his teeth with this foot.”

He rubbed his cheek against his pointed toes. “Will you hurt me, Yuri?”

“I don't want to.”

Otabek kissed his toes, reberently. “You won’t.” 

Yuri put his foot down and cupped his cheek. “I will, stupid. Don't you even get it?” 

“You're wrong.” He put his arms around him and put his lips against his before he could argue. Yuri moaned, because even though it wasn't true, he opened his mouth, anyway. He was such a piece of shit. 

The bed found them, somehow, as they wrapped their arms and legs together, and kissed for the longest time, taking their time, tasting each other. 

Yuri’s phone buzzed. “Ignore it. The hospital would call the house phone.” He reached to turn it off, then went back to Otabek.

“Your lips are so red.”

Yuri grinned as he traced them. “So are yours.”

“I wish I had the courage to talk to you last year.”

Yuri snorted. “What? When I was a freshman?” He was screwing around with Leo and Seung-gil back then. God, it seemed like a lifetime ago. “I would've eaten you alive.”

Otabek kissed his cheek, his jaw, his neck… “More like I would've eaten you alive.”

“Then do it. Bite me.” He did. “Harder.” Yuri clawed his back. “Fuck, yeah. Like that.” He kept biting, like he wanted to break the skin, then sucked. Otabek pulled his hair and kept biting, this time closer to his nape. God! It made Yuri’s toes curl. 

“Touch me.” Yuri put Otabek’s hand between his legs. “No, finger fuck me. I love how you did that thing with your fingers.” He sat up and scrambled for the lube. It was somewhere…

Otabek already had it. He had the slightest, almost imperceptible smirk on his face - Yuri was catching on quick to the subtle turns at the corners of his mouth - and he gave Yuri this _look_ , as if he was just waiting for this. “Spread your legs.”

Yuri propped his feet and elbows on the mattress, spread his knees apart, lifted his ass and offered himself on a fucking platter. “Good enough for you?”

Otabek’s breath hissed. “God! You are so dirty…”

“Yeah? You love it, don't you?”

“You don't know what you're even asking for. No idea…”

Yuri rolled his hips, “Show me.” His cock was already hard and he was aching to find out. 

“I'll stop if you don't like it.”

“Aw, Altin you're breaking my heart here. Will you stop talking and -”

Suddenly he was pushed back, his thighs were slung over Otabek’s shoulders and he could feel that undercut scraping his skin as -

Oh, god…

His face was between Yuri’s legs and his mouth was - was _right there_ , right between his ass cheeks and his tongue was - 

“Fuck!” Yuri shrieked as Otabek pressed his tongue inside of him, over and over, _fucking_ him with it, making these greedy, growling noises deep in his throat. “Oh, god!” Yuri started jerking himself off as he stared into his eyes, but his hand was pulled away and Otabek did it, instead. 

His head was spinning and he was sobbing, begging for Otabek to go faster when his hand slowed down, then whining when he pinched the head of his dick. “Shhhh.”

“Bite me, Altin!” Yuri snarled at him. Who said he could stop? 

That got him flipped over on his hands and knees. “No problem.” Otabek bit him, again - right on the strawberry birthmark on his ass cheek! Yuri whipped his head back and wailed. “You're too beautiful, too delicious. I definitely think I'm the one who's going to eat you alive, Yura.”

Yura. He gasped when he heard that. No one called him any Russian nicknames, except - 

And it was okay. No, better than okay. Yuri pushed his face into the pillow and moaned as he felt a finger prodding against him. “Yeah, fuck me. Fuck my ass.”

“You are so sweet and dirty, Yura.” Otabek’s finger was slick and warm and… oh, god! Right there! Right there, where it made Yuri see fucking stars! “You make me want too much!”

“Do whatever, damnit! You said you wouldn't make me beg!”

“Yura!” There was a slap across his ass, and it fucking stung. His teeth bit into him again. “You make me get so hard. I can't concentrate. I can't think straight. I just want to fuck you over and over. I'm yours and I want you to belong to me.” Two, then three fingers pounded into him. 

Yuri sobbed. He wanted to belong to him, so bad. 

“You can't hurt me. I promise you, Yura. Not when you give me this. Just say you trust me? Belong to me?”

“Yes! Oh, fuck! _Yes!_ ” Yuri nearly came - he would've come, if Otabek wasn't pinching the head of his dick, again. 

“Say it, Yura. You don't want me to hold back. So I'm not holding back. I want you. I want you all the time. Say you won't do this with anyone else but me, Yura.”

“I'm yours!” 

As much as he could be. 

He pulled Yuri’s by the hair. Otabek’s teeth seered him, when he bit his shoulder. “Mine!” Then he thrust into Yuri, hard, fisting Yuri’s cock as he set a brutal pace. Skin slapped against skin, hands held him in place as Otabek dominated every pore of Yuri’s being. 

He came, screaming Otabek's name, in seconds. 

++

“What was that all about?” Yuri asked. 

He was running his fingers through Yuri’s hair as they lay under the comforter, ignoring the Netflix stream on Otabek’s laptop. “My way of asking you to go steady with me.”

“Go steady? Are you for real?” Yuri sat up. “How do you go from sex god to awkward dork, like that?”

“Boyfriend?” Otabek tweeted his nose and Yuri shoved his hand away. 

He plopped back down on his chest and lazily licked at his nipple. God, he loved Otabek’s chest. He had the most amazing, cut body. “Boyfriend sounds corny, too. _Go steady and be my boyfriend_.” 

“Just as long as you understand, I will keep my promise to your grandfather. I'm not going to get in the way of what you want to accomplish. No demands to distract you from ballet or school, okay? And all I want is for you to be faithful to me. That's it.”

“Not a problem.” Yuri couldn't imagine wanting to be rich the goofballs he was once fucking around with, anymore, after the revelation that was Otabek the Sex God. He made them look, well, silly. “So what do I even call you?”

“Your lover? Partner?” 

Yuri groaned. “Oh my god! Those suck! Imagine saying that when you're balls deep in my ass. It would kill a hard on. No way.”

“That's different.” He picked up a swath of his hair and inhaled. “I love the scent in your hair.”

“It's the cheap VO5 strawberry shampoo from Crest. Eighty five cents.” 

“I practically salivate when I smell it.”

Yuri bit his nipple. “Don't eat my hair, Altin.”

Otabek smacked his bare ass playfully. “Brat.”

Yuri snorted. “Hey, you can call me that. Tell everyone I'm your brat and you're my daddy.”

“You are so damn filthy.” He smacked him, again, then squeezed with both hands as Yuri flicked his to tongue against his nipple. 

“Whatever you say, Daddy.”

++

Too bad belonging to Otabek didn't translate well into the real world. Mr Giacometti, that Swiss pervert from hell, made some smart remark about his love bites and made him drop his phone and crack the screen in French. During practice he fucked up fouetté saute in his routine, nearly crashing right into Georgi on his landing.

“Pay attention!” Lilia snapped, popping him in the back of the head. “You cannot fly when your mind is in the gutter.”

“You're head’s scrambled.” Georgi flipped him off. “Get it together before you kill someone, asshole.”

“Go masturbate to Alex Jones, loser!” Yuri was about to start his routine again when Viktor took him aside. “What?”

They were standing in the hall, across from the novice room. “What did I tell you, Yuri? That boy is a distraction.”

“Can you give me a break? Grandpa is still in the hospital and he's the only thing that's keeping me from losing my shit, okay?”

Viktor put his hand through his hair and sighed. “Mr Katsuki says you've been ignoring your classwork. He said you didn't finish your packet and he's very concerned.” Yuri was about to say something about _Mr Katsuki_ , when Viktor caught him by the chin and put an end to that notion. “What you're saying about this boy better be right. Because if I find out you're using Nikolai’s heart attack as an excuse to screw your life up over Mr Motorcycle, you can say goodbye to my support.”

Yuri yanked himself free. “Who the hell are you to judge me?”

“If you really care about this boy, you will not embarrass yourself over him and make him look like an ass. Pull yourself together and get back in there.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri and Otabek deal with friends and family. Oh, and try phonesex.

“So this is a real thing?” JJ eyeballed them through his Lexus rearview mirror. Never had luxury felt more shitty! Yuri glared right back. “Told you it would happen, Beka. See?” He winked at Yuri. “You got your princess.”

The oh-so-understated sedan from hell (someone else probably picked it out for His Royal Shittiness, someone who thought he had class) rolled out of the school parking lot. Otabek inhaled sharply - Yuri was clawing his knee. Why did he have to tag along during their lunchtime pizza run? Jean Jackass was just going to make a bunch of fucked up comments and Otabek was going to apologize for them, later. If _Beka_ liked him so much, fine. But that didn't mean Yuri should have to deal with the King of Turds, especially during finals. 

Otabek gently pulled his hand off and held it, instead. “You might want to give Yuri a reason to like you.”

JJ snorted. “What are you, high? He loves me!”

“I want to kill you and your parents for making you.” Yuri’s fingers were just itching to do it. 

“It’s okay, kid. I know you don't mean it.” JJ turned right onto 23rd as he waved to the campus cop. 

This motherfucker…

All hail, Pizza Hut! Home of pure torture and broken dreams! Otabek got him a huge salad, but it still sucked to watch them scarf down all that lovely, greasy, cheesy goodness. He promised himself he'd sneak a tongue kiss off of him before class, just to taste the pepperoni pizza Otabek was practically making love to. Caesar with grilled chicken strips was not nearly as tempting. 

“Otabek should take you to Prom.” 

Yuri forked some chicken. It should have been his face. “I…no.” His new schedule had him at the studio for eight solid hours, Saturdays and Sundays, and after that all he wanted to do was sit on his ass. He couldn't imagine partying Saturday night. 

“Otabek took his cousin last year. The poor guy finally gets the girl of his dreams and he can't even take her to prom? That's so cold.” 

“I'm warning you, jackoff...” 

Otabek put his hand on Yuri’s thigh and squeezed. It was probably meant to be something like an apology or distraction. Whatever. He rubbed his knee against his. “It's okay, Yuri. I didn’t have that much fun.” 

He glared at JJ again, then took a deep breath and smiled at the dick, when Otabek squeezed his thigh once more. Hey, he deal with his grandpa and Viktor, so it was only fair. Otabek glanced at him as he took another bite of pizza. Oh, but that _wasn't_. 

But JJ had to test him, because that was what JJ did. “Why no pizza? You watching your girlish figure?”

Fuck. Yuri had to think of something, quick. Otabek’s hand squeezed gently, like he was trying to tell him it was okay. Hell, Mr Honesty would probably tell the whole world on general principle, that he didn't eat pizza because _he_ did ballet, but Yuri didn't have that kind of spine. “I don't feel like it.”

“No, you do. You’re barely touching your salad and you’re looking at your boyfriend’s plate more than you're looking at him.” JJ shrugged. “You want it? Take it! That's what I'm always telling this crazy Kazakh, over here.”

Yuri shoved the salad in his face. Lilia would have six thousand fits if he came into the studio with a pot belly, like Mr Katsuki. “No, seriously. I want Caesar Salad.”

“He eats like a girl, looks like a girl. If it wasn't for the voice I'd swear - “

Yuri connected his sneaker to JJ’s shin with a little violence, and a lot of pleasure. JJ cursed and turned to rub the pain away. 

The fucker was going to do a lot of rubbing. 

“I've got a set of balls between my legs, asshole. But one more girlie comment, and you will lose yours.” Okay, so maybe threatening a football player was a little crazy. He'd done worse. 

Amazingly, JJ didn't get mad. He just laughed like he just heard a great joke or something. “You got yourself a real badass over here, Beka. Beautiful and deadly.”

Otabek pushed his plate away, even though he had two untouched pieces. “He's deadly.” His hand slid down to cup Yuri’s thigh as he almost-smiled at him. “I wouldn't dare cross him.”

Yuri tapped his foot against his. “Damn right.” He had to grin when Otabek tapped back. 

“Didn’t I tell you to go for it, Beka?”

Wait. What? Yuri stared at the asshole. 

“Our boy over here hasn't gone on one date his whole life. Not counting his cousin, of course. He had not one clue how to even talk to you. If it wasn't for yours truly, he'd still be pining over you during football practice.”

Yuri blinked. He didn't want to hear this from JJ. He caught Otabek’s eye and saw how fucking embarrassed he was. He looked like he wanted to run out of there or something. 

Yuri reached down and squeezed his hand. “I'm full. You full?” He glanced at Otabek, who nodded back with his adorable, red face. “Hurry up, LeRoy. We gotta go.”

++

[Yuri] _you were a virgin, weren't you?_

[Otabek] _sorry I lied again_

[Yuri] _my dude…_

Mr Giacometti smiled his _you’d better be done with your work_ smile from his desk. Yuri held up his translations and nodded. God, did the asshole really have to wink back at him? 

[Yuri] _you didn't tell me and I wish you did. just relax about that shit. why are you friends with such a loud mouth anyway?_

[Otabek] _He encourages people. He's a good person. You just have to give him a chance._

[Yuri] _so you never went on dates or anything?_

[Otabek] _no_

[Yuri] _because of your religion or something?_

[Otabek] _no. Just busy. Then when you came around I was too shy_

Yuri snorted.

[Yuri] _you said that before. but you don't act shy_

The phone at Mr Giacometti's desk rang. “Yes?” He looked at Yuri, then crooked his finger at him. “Oh, sure. He's on his way.”

Yuri shoved his cell phone in his jacket and grabbed his shit. He wished he could throw his hoodie over his head, to shield himself from his classmates stares as he trudged his way between their desks. 

“They want you at the office. Your father is here.” Mr Giacometti’s French was way too fast. Yuri barely understood it. “Please don't tell forget the assignment?” He held out his hand. 

_”Merci, professeur.”_ He slapped it on the table and got out of there. 

_Father_ meant one person around here: fucking Viktor! What the fuck did he want, now? 

He jammed the main office buzzer about a dozen times, glaring at the fucker through the glass as Viktor wiggled his fingers at him, because assholes apparently didn't tell school secretaries someone was at the door. 

Fucker!

“Sorry about that.” Yeah, the dumpy old secretary was real sorry for letting Viktor sit on her desk so she could _ooh_ and _ahh_ over his sagging ass. 

“What, now, _Dad?_ ” 

Viktor slid off the desk and smiled with open arms. “We’re going to go pick your Grandpa up from the hospital!”

Yuri didn't think twice about jumping over the wooden partition and running into those arms for a giant, sappy bear hug, complete with rocking and hair tussling, though he would later swear no such thing ever happened. 

++

“Yurachka! That was a delicious dinner.”

Yuri insisted on cooking after practice. It was no big deal, especially considering how _well_ practice went. He felt like someone had taken the weight off his legs, and he was fucking flying, again. “Mac and cheese, my specialty.” Well, mac and cheese and salad for Grandpa, and just salad for Yuri. 

“Well, it was better than that damn hospital food, boy.” Yuri beamed as Grandpa laughed. “It is so good to be home. And it is so clean! Not one dish or speck of trash! Did you vacuum, too?”

He stopped rinsing dishes in the old slop sink. “No, Grandpa.”

“That boy did it.”

Yuri looked over his shoulder, meekly. “He's a very good boy, Grandpa. Better than anyone in the school. He even mopped the kitchen floor.”

“He slept here, too. Didn't he, Yurachka?”

He turned bright red. Yuri never tried to hide his sex life from his grandfather, but they never talked about it, either. He just said boys were unimportant. But none of those other boys took care of him when he was down, or asked him to _to steady_ , either. “Yeah. He slept here. In my bed.” He could barely manage whispering it. “Sorry.” 

“Your mother…” Yuri winced when he heard that. “She let me think she was a virgin until she was as big as a house, with you. Did you know that?”

He shook his head. 

“Come here, boy.”

He knelt at his his grandfather’s old recliner, reverently, head bowed, with tears in his eyes. “I'm so sorry.”

Grandpa patted his head. “You didn't lie about the boy, so don't lie about ‘sorry.’ You're not sorry. But you're not like your mother. You didn't hide him from me. You let me meet this boy and see what he was and you told me the truth about you-know-what.” 

“But sleeping over - you're mad -”

“Yurachka, this _gay_ , it is strange to me. I do not understand it. God made a universe full of things I do not understand. But I understand you, and I understand you were scared.”

Yuri blinked. He wasn't angry with him? 

“But that Kazakh boy wants more than crossword puzzles from you.”

Yuri wiped his face off and nodded. “I know.” Scared of screwing his life up. Scared of bringing pain to everyone around him. Scared of ending up _like her_. 

“He promised me he would not ruin your ballet. So you will not.”

He heard Viktor’s warnings echo in his head. “Yes, Grandpa.”

“Oh, and Yurachka? No more you-know-what in my house.” He smacked the back of Yuri’s head - lightly. “Very disrespectful!”

++

It was way too late, and he didn't do near enough studying, when he called Otabek. 

“Hey, cherry.” He hugged the pillow Otabek had slept on, inhaling his scent. “How are you?”

Otabek sighed on the other end. “Not good. I just realized I don't like sleeping alone.”

“Grandpa likes what you did to the house. Pretty sure he doesn't think you're a gangster, anymore.” 

“That's a relief.”

Yuri bit his lip. “He also knows we did it.”

He let out a long breath. “It was disrespectful of me.”

“Don’t start. He only said the exact same thing.” Yuri flopped on his back. “But he still likes you, okay? So just relax.”

“Ah, Mama wants you to have dinner with us tomorrow.”

Yuri smacked his forehead. “If it was anyone but you I'd say no. After seven is all I can do. Practice.”

“Bring your Grandfather, she said. She's making Borscht.”

Everyone makes that shit for Russians. Why, Yuri would never know. “Okay.”

“God, Yura. I want to touch you so badly right now.” His voice was suddenly so deep, so rough.

Yuri rubbed his legs together. “One question? You did research on how to fuck me, didn't you? Like, serious googling on fingering and rimming and penetration.”

“Yeah.” 

“You're a really good student, man. I mean, I didn't know that was your first time at all.”

“I didn't want to disappoint you.” 

“Well, you didn't.” Yuri was getting turned on just thinking about it. “Hey, you wanna jerk off over the phone?”

“I've been jerking off.”

What? Yuri sat up. “Dude. We were talking about our folks.”

“Yura, you could read the phone book to me and make me hard.”

Wow. He really meant that. Yuri began to shake because, well, _fuck_. “I don't know how to respond to that.”

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Shit! He was being an asshole, again. “No, no - it's just, well, it's a lot. I'm not used to hearing anyone talk to me like this. I'm the one who should be sorry.”

“You can change your mind about jerking off if you want to.” He sighed. “I’m happy just to talk to you.”

“Shut up and keep touching yourself, Altin.” 

He could hear Otabek shifting around. “Okay.”

“You hard?”

“Yes.” He was breathing hard, too. Yuri bit his lip, imagining him laying in bed, sprawled out on the sheets, coming just for him. Fuck! Why imagine? “FaceTime me. I want to see you.”

Otabek hung up and Yuri’s Factime chimed, instantly. He couldn't accept fast enough. 

The room was dark, but he could definitely make out Otabek, fan-fucking-tastically bare chested.

“You have black sheets.” 

“Blue.” Otabek moaned. “You look so good Yura. You always look so good. God, it was so hard keeping my hands off you, today.”

Yuri held his breath to keep himself from whining. He wished he could climb into that bed and suck him, then ride him, and suck him again. But this was going to have to work. He tossed back his hair and grinned. 

“You want to get dirty, perv?” He kicked his finger and rubbed his right nipple. “You just happened to call the right boy for that.”

Otabek let out a long breath. “Show me, Yura. I want to see you.”

“You, first.” 

Otabek pulled the sheet off, and fuck if he didn't disappoint. He was fisting his dick, slow and steady. “Now you.”

Yuri sat up to yank his shorts down. He rubbed his tip and circled his hips in the same slow rhythm Otabek was using in himself. “I want something inside me.” He stuck two fingers in his mouth, moaning as Otabek’s pace picked up, wishing he could be between his legs, right now, sucking him off. 

“Gently, Yura. I want you to make those little noises you make. The begging noises. They're so sexy.”

Yuri's hands shook as he dribbled lube all over his fingers. The things that guy said! Fuck! They made that tingling feeling zig zag all through him, making him lightheaded. He spread his legs and, carefully, pushed his middle finger in.

“My sweet, dirty Yura…” 

It didn't hurt, not when he was as careful as Otabek was. It barely even stung. And when he curled his finger, just like Otabek had, it felt - oh, _yes_... 

“That's my Yura.” 

Yuri actually did whimper, now. He wanted, needed Otabek to be _here_ , inside him, holding him. He shivered as Otabek spat into his hand and quickened his pace. 

“Yes, keep moving your hips like that, Yura.”

“I want another finger.” He didn't feel full enough, not like he did with Otabek. So he pulled out and lubed up two, then pushed them in, slowly, watching Otabek watch him.

And he was. His eyes narrowed and he bit his lip as Yuri pushed all the way in. “You're not hurting yourself, are you?”

“No! Calm down! It feels good.” Not as good as him, but seeing his reaction was almost good enough. “God, why can't you be here?”

“Stroke yourself, Yura. I need to see you come.”

He did. But he needed more. “You too,” Yuri said. “Come on, cherry. I'm so jealous of your hand.”

Otabek groaned as Yuri pulled at his dick and pounded away at his ass, but the sound of his voice did more to Yuri than his hands ever could. It was so deep, it rolled through his body and made him see stars. “Deep inside. That's it. Right there, Yura. So deep inside you. Come for me.”

“I want you in there!” Yuri moaned as he tried to come. It wasn't enough, not nearly enough. He needed him there, but when he saw Otabek arch into his hand and come, it pushed him over that edge. “Otabek…” He pounded into himself a few more times as he watched the come dribble over Otabek’s fingers. 

After a couple of minutes of catching their breath and cleaning up, each snuggled back down into his respective bed and smiled at the other. 

“That sucked, man.” Yuri touched the screen because it was as close as he could get to touching Otabek’s face. “I wanted to feel you, not my hands.”

“It wasn't the same.” Otabek rubbed his neck and yawned the World’s Most Beautiful Yawn. “But it didn't suck, Yura. You were beautiful. I love watching you come.”

God, he was the sweetest! The world didn't deserve someone like him, let alone Yuri. He wanted to protect that sweetness, protect _him_. But he couldn't do that, any more than he could protect his Grandpa from a heart attack. But he could be kind to him. Yeah, it was the least he could do. 

“Hey, do you want to go to Prom?”

Otabek shook his head. “Not planning on it.”

“Shut up, Altin. Do you want to take me or what?”

He blinked. “I…”

Oh. Oh, _shit_.

Wow, he really was going to kill JJ, because Otabek didn't want to go and now Yuri put him in an awkward position. Yeah, Jean Jackass LeDouche was a dead man, walking. Fuck. Yuri put his hand over his face and laughed so he could play it off as a joke, because, _fuck,_ this was a disaster. 

“I would love to take you to prom, Yura.”

He looked through his fingers. “Did you just say that?”

Otabek nodded. “I just didn't think you would have the time, so I didn't want to pressure you. Are you sure?”

No, he really didn't. But he would make time. “Fuck yeah. I'll even put out.”

++

Yuri checked his hair for the millionth time. Yes, the French braid Mila gave him was still on point. Good. His breath didn't stink, and his shirt was one of those button downs Grandpa always dreamt he would wear. Parents liked that kind of shit. 

“You look nice, Yurachka.”

He gave Grandpa one of his _I'm nervous_ looks. “So do you.”

He tipped his cap with a wink. “Don't forget the pirozhki.” Yuri quickly nabbed the bag as they exited the Chevette and walked down the glorious manicured driveway. “Well, well. Kazakhs do good in America.” 

Yuri looked up at the three story mansion and swallowed hard as his Grandpa made his way up the steps to ring the Altin’s doorbell. Oh, God! He felt so nervous! His palms were sweaty and his socks were already pooling too close to his ankles. They were going to hate him, he just knew it. He was going to put his foot in his mouth and insult everybody in the house. And even if he didn't, they were going to hate him anyway. After all, their son was amazing and Yuri was, well, a fucked up fairy from the wrong side of town. Fuck life and fuck him! Then he saw Otabek waving at him through a plate glass window on the second floor, smiling one of those lovely, subtle smiles down at him. God, he looked so good in that black button down shirt! Like a fucking dream! Suddenly, Yuri's worries seemed less horrific. He felt like he could do anything when he saw Otabek smile, even meet his family.

Yeah, just about anything...


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner with the Altins, and conspiracies in a cold universe prove only one thing is certain: Yuri likes Otabek to give him hickies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, guys! Thank you for all the love you've been giving me. It means so much, and I can't thank you enough. You're like gold at Barcelona, and Katsudon after a nice soak in a hot spring. 
> 
> Just wonderful!

Yuri had been sucker punched so many times just for existing and laughed at for the thing he loved. Life could be cruel and the universe was a cold place. He learned all about that when he was a kid, living in that little slice of hell his mother called home. It wasn't exactly his favorite life lesson, but he was a firm believer. Bu, Otabek was turning that shit on its head and making Yuri _pleasantly surprised_. How that worked, Yuri had no clue. But he lived in not just a cold universe, but a mysterious universe, too, where, apparently, anything was possible. 

Take, for example; the Altin family dinner. There he was, sitting at a linen covered table, in a backyard that looked more like a resort, with the waterfall pool, palm trees, and a lawn so lush it was like a fucking carpet, stuffing himself with the most amazing, tasty food - _that was totally in his fitness diet_. And that even didn't begin to cover the weirdest part: Otabek’s family. 

His mom. _Wow, his mom._ “How would you describe his mother, Yuri?” Viktor would have asked him this question over a martini glass while he sat in some rich person leather chair, wearing a smoking jacket. Maybe with a monocle and definitely with Mr Katsuki on his lap. “Is she one of those Kazakh women who serves tea one gulp at a time and hates anyone who dares to date her precious son?” Imaginary Viktor was just as stupid as the real thing, because she was not anything like that. Not at all. 

So…

Yuri wasn't just welcomed into the Altin home. He was hauled in and hugged by this amazon revelation with a pixie haircut in a tweed jacket. At first he actually thought she was a man until she started talking in this soothing, feminine voice, calling him _the beautiful Russian boy_. He had no idea there was a Mr Altin there, shaking his Grandpa’s hand until she let go and let him actually breath. By that time Otabek was next to him, nudging his arm. “Go ahead! Hug my boy! Young love is a beautiful thing!”

Wow. So much for worrying about the gay issue. Even Mr Altin, a very, very mustachioed man who turned out to be much shorter than his wife and much quieter, shook his hand after Otabek did what his Mama said and gave him a hug - and kiss on the cheek! “I told you Mama would love you.” His father's mustache even went up when they shook. The little sister didn't seem all that impressed. But then again, she looked about twelve or so. No girl that age was impressed with anything. 

So there wasn't horse meat at the table, or a million pieces of fried bread that was going to go right on Yuri’s ass and gut. No, Otabek led him by the hand through their rich people house, past the bookshelves stuffed with science and history titles, past the French doors and over Persian rugs, into a backyard that looked more like a resort with palm trees and a pool and a lawn that looked more like a carpet, where Mrs Altin presented a table that looked like something straight out of Whole Foods. “I hope you don't mind fruits and veggies, dear?”

“Mama is a strict vegan,” his sister, Araily, said. “For ethical reasons.”

A Kazakh woman who didn't eat meat? Yuri could see Grandpa’s head imploding with worry over the bag of piroshki Yuri was holding. 

“My wife is one of a kind.” Mr Altin was hugging her from behind, poking his head over her shoulder as best he could - maybe he was on his toes? - and smiling. “Dr Altin, may I serve our guests?” 

She laughed. “Oh, you adorable man!” She grabbed a plate and immediately began to pile greens and beans and god knew what the hell else sky high, insisting they sit at the round table behind them while she and Mr Altin took care of everything. 

Otabek never let go of his hand, even when they sat together. “Mama and Papa liked you as soon as I told them about you.”

Araily had to pipe up. “They think it's amazing that you're all the sudden gay. Like you're Jesus or something.” 

Grandpa was at a loss. “Maybe the piroshki was a bad idea?”

Otabek shook his head. “No, sir. It is perfect.” He touched the bag Yuri was clutching. “Mama won't mind.”

And she didn't. 

“Oh! A housewarming gift! You two are dears!” She had Araily bring out a plate that must've cost a mint and lay them out in the center of their table. “Lovely!” She snapped her fingers and beamed. 

What was she? A fairy godmother or something? Otabek and his father both chuckled at the same time when she did that. “I told you! Mama is thrilled about you.”

“My son has good taste.” She waited until everyone had a plate to before she sat and ate with them. “He comes by it naturally. Why, his father has tremendous taste!”

Araily rolled her eyes. “Oh my god, Mama!”

They all took a walk around the neighborhood after dinner. “Good for the constitution!” Mrs Altin proclaimed. She held her daughter and husband’s hand while chatting and laughing at everything Yuri’s Grandpa said, while Yuri and Otabek walked behind them.

Otabek swung Yuri’s hand back and forth in his. “So…”

“Your mom is a trip.”

“Yeah…” 

Yuri squeezed his hand. “Hey, it means a lot to me and Grandpa. We don't really get to do this sort of stuff much, you know what I mean?”

He was learning that Otabek's eyes could say a thousand different things stupid words couldn't begin to express. Something like, _I’m so happy you came_ , and _it's a bit too much, right?_ was there, all so easy to understand with one glance. “Sure.”

“Otabek…” He stopped at the corner where the others had turned. “You know you don't have any reason to feel bad if you find someone else when you leave for the fall, right?”

He took Yuri’s hands in his. “I'll be there for you until you tell me to go. No sooner.”

“I knew you'd say that, you fucking cherry.” Yuri squeezed back and sighed. “God, I like you too much.”

The corner of his mouth went up. Otabek did this cute growl. “I like you way too much, too.”

“Wanna neck in the bushes over there?”

“That’s Jean’s front lawn.” Seriously? No, he was joking. His eyebrow was up. Definitely joking, right? “He'd take pictures and post it on his Instagram.”

Yuri snorted. “Very funny. Come on, Altin. My hickies are way too faded. You got work to do.”

The universe was a cold place, with warm pockets here and there, like behind the bushes of a manicured lawn, where Otabek carefully unbuttoned Yuri’s collar. “You'll have to wear a scarf to school, tomorrow.” 

“Don't care.” Yuri tugged his head down, and - “Fuck! Bite me. Do it, harder…” It made him tingle, everywhere. 

++

“Her name is not Avril. It's Melissa.” Georgi should have spent more time on his actual calling in life, and less time on the InfoWars webpage. His stance was sloppy as fuck. He could barely even lift Mila during their duet. “She's an Illuminati clone, like Taylor Swift and Paul McCartney.”

Yuri couldn't shut him up, no matter how many times he ‘accidentally’ slapped his face coming up too fast with his port de bras on the barre. One time he even managed to kick him right in the face when he was rambling about satanic rituals or something. It was beautiful. “Maybe someone replaced you, and you don't even know you're a double.” Yuri made sure he was right in front of Georgi when he bent down to touch his toes, just to make sure the fucker’s face was an inch away from his ass, when Georgi came back up. 

“Stupid!” Yeah, right. _Yuri_ was the stupid one. Of course. He should’ve been buying a thousand dollars worth of canned food, and land out in Butt Fuck Egypt, just like this brain surgeon sniffing his ass. “They do it to famous people so the clones will perform their rituals on the crowds who watch their performances. Don't you know anything?”

“Right. We just drink gay frog water. I forgot.” 

Viktor clapped his hands after he was done whispering bullshit about the routine to Lilia. Fucker was probably going to make Yuri duet with Mila after Georgi practically dropped her on her head five or six times. “Okay, let's focus on solo routines. Yuri, second studio.”

And, of course, Viktor followed him down there. He was going to be drilling him like a sadist - probably because he didn't get head from Mr PorkChop or something. One of the lights was burned out and the CD player was missing. “No music. Seriously?” 

“You should be hearing it in your sleep by now.” Viktor leaned against the wall and pointed. “Come on, Yurachka. Show me I'm not a fool for putting my faith in you.” Oh, great. If anyone was the victim of a fucking conspiracy, it was Yuri. 

So he took second position in the middle of the floor and began to move. It felt odd at first, knowing, this whole time, that Viktor was probably glaring at the love bite on his neck, so he focused on the steps. 

“Stop, stop,” Viktor said. “How many times do I have to tell you to _feel_ the music?” 

Ugh. What did that even mean, _feel the music?_ Smiling? Being confident? 

“Like this.” Viktor did the jump arabesque, then turned with his eyes half closed and his mouth open. Yuri snorted. Viktor opened his eyes. “What?”

“You look like a gay frog.”

Viktor smacked the back of his head. “Again.”

“What am I supposed to be feeling?”

“Again.”

Yuri closed his eyes and tried to reach for something, anything. He wanted to be Soloist so bad, and it was all he could think of in here. So he started again, imagining Lilia making the announcement. 

“No, no, no.”

Yuri smacked the wall with his open hand when he stopped the turns. “Okay, what's the deal now?”

“All I see is an ambitious dancer. This is a piece about true love, Yuri. You have a boyfriend, right? So what does that even mean to you?”

Thinking about Otabek was a guaranteed shit show and Viktor knew it. “You want to give Soloist to Georgi? Maybe even give him the scholarship?”

“Don't be ridiculous.”

“Grandpa is right, you know? You're a fool. Every day you say something that contradicts what you said the day before, and no one calls you out because you're Viktor-fucking-Nikiforov.”

He crossed his arms. “Are you done?”

“Not even warmed up, asshole. You can buy my lessons, but you can't buy logic. You don't make sense. You warned me about getting too close one day then you tell me to think about him, today.”

He sighed. “I don't even remember saying that.”

He didn't…? Yuri smacked his forehead. “Fuck you ten million different ways with a butter knife, Nikiforov! Oh my god! I hate your faggot ass so bad!”

“Don't say that. I'm your mentor! You can't hate your mentor!”

“Try me.”

Viktor clapped. “Think about Mr Motorcycle. How does he make you feel?”

He thought about their first time when he did the jump arabesque, but his arms were too stiff and his foot was not pointing. He was messing up basic, basic shit. 

“This isn't going to work.” 

“What are you boys doing?” Lilia clapped and their attention was instantly on her. “Yuri, you have gotten worse with this new schedule.”

“No!” A chill went down his spine. 

“Too much focus on nonsense. Not enough of fundamentals.” She pushed his foot and arms in place like he was back in beginner's class. “Viktor, you are a terrible teacher. You have no hope.”

++

Otabek took him to the lake after practice, letting Yuri sit on the front, facing him, legs wrapped around his waist. “So you're supposed to think of me when you dance.” Otabek nudged his nose against Yuri's. 

“And like I told you - it fucks me up.” Yuri nudged right back. “You're too distracting.” He pulled back so he could focus on Otabek’s belt buckle. “Imagine trying to tackle someone or whatever when you're thinking about crossword puzzles.”

“Is that ballet to you? Tackles and crossword puzzles?”

Yuri didn't want to complain when he was alone with him. He wanted to _feel_. “Yeah.” His briefs were harder to manage than the jeans. “Help me, here?”

Otabek tipped his chin up. “You were like a fighter when I saw you dance. Who were you thinking of, back then?”

“That meant help me get your dick out.”

“You were angry then, and now you're scared. It's because of this.” He kissed him, gently. 

Yuri opened his mouth for more, and got it. Otabek’s tongue lapped against his. He tasted like cherry coke. 

Birds chirped overhead as they shifted closer together, so close Otabek’s buckle dug into Yuri’s crotch. Ouch. He pulled it out of Otabek’s pant loops and tossed it on the ground, then wiggled until he was able to grind his ass against him. “I wanna suck you off, but this feels so good, just being close to you.”

“Whatever you want.” Otabek was licking his neck. “All I want is to make you happy.”

“Love it when you're on my neck, man.”

Otabek pulled his scarf away and bit the mark he made, as Yuri bucked against him. 

“I could spend the rest of my life with you just doing that, you know?”

He bit harder. His hands cupped Yuri’s ass and squeezed. 

“But then again I wanna suck you.” He kept bucking against him. “And I want you to fuck me, all the time. Like, all day, nothing but you up my ass.”

Otabek groaned. “I want to fuck you right now, Yura. But we are outside. In public.”

“And your pants are undone.” Yuri licked his ear and bit the lobe. “Come on. Please just let me suck you. Just a little. We've got trees and shit. No one will see.” He slipped off the bike and knelt in the dirt. “Please, Beks?”

“Beks?” 

He laughed. “You said I wouldn't have to beg.”

Otabek groaned as he swung his leg off the bike. “This is a bad idea.”

Yuri tugged his pants down just enough and grinned when Otabek’s hand grabbed the bun in his hair to tug him toward his hard on. “Fuck me up, Daddy.”

“God, you are so dirty.” His breath hissed as Yuri opened his mouth and went in. “So damn dirty.”

He wanted to be that way.


End file.
